


to fall asleep with you around

by larryhaylik



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Cute, Dom/sub, Feels, Innocent, M/M, READ NOTES, Subdrop, there's no sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-09
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2019-01-31 03:49:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12673809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larryhaylik/pseuds/larryhaylik
Summary: Tony's been having stressful time lately and when he's like this, even the smallest things can throw him off. And Steve, well, Steve just feels too much.





	to fall asleep with you around

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILERS for the story // TAG EXPLANATION  
> The work is rated Mature because subdrop & discussing safewords. They don't do a thing, so if you came for sexy times, some of my other stories may be of interest to you. Enjoy xx

The sharp sound of shattered ceramics rang through the kitchen and Steve's head snapped around. There, in the middle of the room, just visible through the door that connected the kitchen with the library, stood Tony. A profoundly lost look resided on his features as he glared at the shards scattered over the floor, stark white in the dark brown of the coffee.

Steve watched as Tony stared at the floor, unmoving as if waiting for the cup to fix itself and hop back into his hands.

Steve looked at Tony's hands. They were shaking.

A wave of anxiety that wasn't his broke over Steve with such a force he gasped, gripping the book he had been reading hard enough to dent its cover. It was freezing cold and crept into every inch of his body until he felt like his veins were filled with ice.

Steve had always been more affected by Subs' feelings than most. When they were upset, well - Steve could definitely tell.

Before Steve had a chance to say something, Tony sniffled quietly, hid his face in his palms and drew in a shaky breath. He was mumbling to himself in soft tones and despite Steve's enhanced hearing, the only words he was able to catch _were it's okay, doesn't matter_ and _you're stronger than this_. Warmth spread across Steve's cheeks as he realized he was witnessing something, well, private, and it took every ounce of self-control he possessed to stop himself from getting up and running to Tony. It was nowadays nobody's business, Steve had been told, if a Sub was tiptoeing along the edge of subdrop. 

_As cruel as it might seem to you_ , Agent Coulson had said, _just leave them be. If they want your help, they'll ask_.

That had seemed incredulous to Steve in more than one way. 

First of all, how can they expect a Sub to ask for what they need? Subs rarely ever did that, it wasn't in their nature. That's why picking the right Dom was so important; somebody who cares about the wellbeing of their Sub. 

(He consulted JARVIS on the matter. Apparently, not only were Subs free to live life unbonded, they were also encouraged from an early age to express themselves. Steve thought that was amazing, but he still didn't believe a Sub would ask for anything.)

Second, how was he supposed to stay unfazed when a Sub's distress was staring him in the face? Everything in him was twisting uncomfortably, screamed to get up and gather Tony in a blanket and hold him. If he liked, that is. Not every Sub needed physical contact to prevent a drop.

Tony's legs started to bend and Steve was halfway out of his seat before he even properly registered it, protective instinct taking over rational mind, but Tony didn't fold to his knees; he just crouched and began picking up the remains of his evening coffee. Steve's chest still felt tight. He could come over, right? Just to help with the clean-up?

"You alright in there?" Steve asked like he normally would. Tony's head snapped up; he was obviously unaware of Steve's presence.

"Yeah," Tony murmured, clumsily gathering the shards with trembling fingers. Steve had never seen Tony's hands so unsteady. "Just a bit twitchy, I guess."

"Well, we all have bad days," Steve said, at a complete loss of anything else to say. Instead, he grabbed a dishcloth and crouched down.

"Hey, no, you don't have to do that," Tony frowned as Steve started wiping away the spilt coffee. "I can clean my own mess."

"I know," Steve said simply, carrying on. "Doesn't mean I can't help."

Steve felt Tony's eyes follow his actions quizzically, a thoughtful expression on his face as if he was trying to figure something - Steve - out. Steve looked up and gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile. 

"Thanks," Tony said finally, getting up to throw what he held away and back again to collect the rest. "I could still- fuck."

Steve looked up to find Tony glaring at the line of red on his palm where he had cut himself.

"Dammit!" Tony growled, scrambling to his feet and to the sink to wash the blood away. He couldn't get the tap unscrewed; his words got increasingly more panicked. "Dammit, dammit, dammit."

In a second, Steve was standing beside him, one hand opening the tap, other tentatively taking Tony's and guiding it into the flow. It wasn't shaking when Steve held it.

Tony made a noncommittal sound of relief, but his muscles were still wound tight beneath his shirt. From this close, Steve could see the tiredness etched into Tony's features, could see Tony's eyes jumping quickly from one place to another, unfocused, and it physically hurt him to see Tony - usually bright, loud and full of colour - like that. A ball of anxiety sat in Steve's chest, a need to do something; hug Tony, run his fingers through Tony's hair, pat him on the back, anything at all.

Maybe- maybe he could ask. He could offer to take Tony down. At worst, Tony would say no. And it would hurt Steve, sure, but it would hurt less than the guilt of not asking at all.

"You're a Dom."

Steve's head whipped up at the sound of Tony's exhausted voice.

"Yes?"

Perhaps Steve wouldn't need to ask.

"And you're not seeing anybody?"

Steve blushed a little.

"No, I'm not."

It was quiet for a moment. Tony took a deep breath.

"I need to get work done."

Steve tried hard to hide the disappointment and even harder to fight down the urge to just not let Tony go in this state.

"I can't do it like this." Tony flexed his hand in Steve's grip. Steve let go and the trembling came back. "I need my hands to work."

Steve waited. 

"If it's not too much trouble," Tony mumbled so quietly Steve had to strain his ears to hear him, "I mean-"

See, that's what Steve had meant. Subs were not used to asking for thin-

"Could you help me down?"

Steve's mind blanked out.

"I- yeah," Steve stammered. "I mean- if you're sure?"

Tony gave him a look. 

"I wouldn't have asked if I weren't."

"Of course," Steve said hastily, "of course." 

They continued to stand by the sink, neither willing to take the first step. The atmosphere melted into awkward and then unpleasant.

"Uh, okay, nevermind," Tony mumbled, turning on his heel and making for the exit before Steve had a chance to blink.

The tightness in Steve's chest increased, tying his insides into knots, and what was he doing, Tony couldn't leave, Tony actually asked-

"Tony!" Steve called out, springing into motion. He caught up with Tony as the man was asking JARVIS to take the elevator to his workshop. Steve managed to stop the doors from sliding shut just so. Tony watched him warily, wearily. "I said I would-"

"Didn't look like it. And I don't have time to waste," Tony interrupted sourly. Something - JARVIS, Steve supposed - kept the elevator doors open.

"I know. But I do. Want to help, that is," Steve clarified, his hands clasping and unclasping each other to prevent full-body fidgeting. Waves of deep unease rolled off Tony and Steve wasn't sure how much longer he could keep himself from doing anything about it.

The relief Steve felt when Tony nodded was like pouring hot water into a pack of instant noodles - everything came loose.

"Get in."

Steve got in.

"Yours or mine?"

"That's your call to make. Which makes you more comfortable?"

"My floor, JARVIS."

They slid into motion. Steve fell into parade rest. There was loud buzzing in his mind, thoughts and ideas simmering, bubbling, and Steve tried his best to knit up a quick plan. Every Sub was different, they needed different things, liked different things.

And disliked.

"Um," Steve cleared his throat. "Limits?"

"No water other than drinking."

"Trigger phrases?"

"Don't call me sweetheart."

"Kinks?"

"Immobility. Pain caused by hands."

"Subspace support?"

"Play with my hair. Or my hands. Scratching my back helps."

Steve found his breathing got a little easier. Tony was a tactile Sub; Steve could work with that.

"I don't want this to be sexual."

Steve slowly turned his head towards Tony. The man was tugging at the hem of his T-shirt self-consciously, teeth worrying on his bottom lip. With a start, Steve realised Tony was nervous about the statement as if he thought Steve might refuse to help since no orgasms were involved, and really, what kind of Dom would agree to take a Sub down only to backpedal upon hearing they won't be getting any?

"Okay." 

Steve made sure his voice was steady with easy acceptance, but that didn't stop Tony from flicking his eyes upwards to peer into Steve's face suspiciously as if Steve had lied and Tony needed to gauge his real reaction from his facial expression.

The elevator pinged softly when they reached their destination. Stepping out, Steve took a cursory glance at their surroundings - Tony's floor was different yet alike the shared one or Steve's own. The windows were high and everywhere, giving a breathtaking view of the New York skyline, the furniture modern and comfortable, the art on the walls and decorations so well-matched Steve positive Tony didn't pick it himself.

Turning around, Tony gave Steve a calculative once-over and then bypassed the couch in favour of the door on the left.

To be honest, solid three-quarters of the place didn't look like Tony picked it, Steve thought as he followed Tony down the hallway. The only things that seemed like him were the occasional photographs and newspaper articles hung on the walls - Steve caught a glimpse of a World War I aeroplane and a newspaper report about the first man setting foot on the Moon.

Tony walked into a room and Steve immediately knew it was Tony's; the duvets lay unmade, a glass of water stood on the bedside table, a sleeve peeked out of the wardrobe where Tony must have closed it too quickly and his shirt got caught outside. 

"JARVIS," Tony said as he walked across the room to his bed, "initiate the Silence protocol."

"Of course, sir."

Settling on the duvets, Tony bent down to take off his shoes. Steve stood unmoving for several moments as Tony fumbled with the laces. An aura of desperation began to form around him, pulsing outwards and making Steve's heartbeat stutter. In a split second, he remembered himself, sinking to his knees to gently pry Tony's hands away.

"What's the Silence protocol?" Steve asked, fingers moving deftly, untying the knot Tony had managed to make.

"All calls will either be turned down or diverted to Pepper," Tony answered quietly. "If Pep calls, JARVIS will tell her about the Silence protocol. She knows what it means."

The knot came loose and Steve tugged the shoe off. Tony pulled his legs up, sitting cross-legged, his hands laying in his lap. Steve took him in, how he seemed almost small put together so compactly, deprived of the usual brashness.

"What's your safeword?"

"Buttercup."

"Is there anything else I should know? Apart from what you told me?"

Tony shifted, picking at his nail.

"Tony?"

"If you could- ask. Before you do anything." Tony's eyes were skimming the room as if he saw it for the first time, but he purposefully avoided Steve. "I might not always be able to answer, but if I'm not saying no, take it for a yes. I just. It's. Yeah. If you could."

The anxiety that had started to go down picked up in strength again and Steve shuddered against it. Nobody had ever believed him - not really - when he told them he could feel what his Subs felt, but he could. As clearly as he could sense Tony's discomfort and the underlying threat of a subdrop now, he would later be able to tell when that threat diminished and when Tony hit subspace.

That was probably Steve's favourite feeling in the world - when a Sub he tended to reached subspace. It was like- almost like an impossibly perfect sunny day during a summer holiday. It was warm and calm, the world turned slowly and he didn't worry about anything except his Sub's comfort. 

"If that makes you happy," Steve said quietly, smiling at Tony as he got up and toed off his shoes. He was just about to go sit next to Tony when he remembered and asked:

"Can I sit down with you?"

Tony's answering smile was small and felt private, but it also shone with appreciation and the tension that hung around them dissipated a little. Tony nodded and Steve settled next to Tony.

"I thought... we could watch a movie. I could touch you, ease you down." 

"Okay." 

Tony stared at Steve somewhat expectantly, so Steve crawled a bit higher on the bed, settling with his back against the headboard.

"Will you be okay in my arms?" Steve spread them in an invitation to support his point.

"Yeah?" Tony didn't sound sure but he also didn't sound like he hated the idea which was all Steve could ask for.

"Come here, then?" Steve motioned to the space in front of him. After a split second of hesitation, Tony joined him, burrowing himself into the duvets to make himself comfortable. Slowly, he leaned back, a warm pressure against Steve's chest. 

"I'm going to put my arm around you, okay?"

Tony gave a curt nod and Steve sneaked one hand around Tony's waist, feeling him tense up to the point where Steve was sure Tony was going to snap in half. On instinct - or maybe remembering that Tony had told him immobility was a good thing - his hold tightened. As if that meant something unspoken to Tony, the man started to relax in tiny increments.

Good, Steve thought to himself. Right. Film.

"JARVIS, if you could play a movie? Something light, funny, teenage romance?"

"With music in it, please," Tony mumbled, shifting against Steve, finding a better position.

"Playing High School Musical, sirs," JARVIS responded, dimming the lights just a touch. A landscape with a lot of snow appeared on the screen, a ski resort. Then a Sub guy, playing basketball with his father, a Dom girl immersed in a book. A minute later, they were singing their lungs out and Steve could feel light vibrations that undoubtedly meant Tony was singing along. His body was curled into Steve's and radiated warmth, his arms crossed with Steve's in the middle, holding on. The atmosphere was content - or content enough.

"I want to let go of you and for you to rest your head your knees. I'll play with your hair, touch your back. Is that okay?" 

The vibrations stopped and Tony murmured a quiet 'yeah'. Steve released the hold he had on Tony and the man drew his knees up, settling his hands on the knees and his head on his hands. Steve reached up and let his fingers wander through the strands, carding through them gently, before dropping slowly onto Tony's back, angling his fingers so that his nails scratched softly through Tony's shirt.

"Okay?" Steve asked, drawing lines along Tony's spine. The Sub boy on the screen - Troy - was picking up fallen sheet music, giving some encouraging talk to another girl.

"Yeah."

"What's your safeword?"

"Buttercup."

"Good boy." Steve's ears picked up on the slight drowsiness present in Tony's answer and smiled. Almost there.

The room was quiet except for the movie, and somewhat warmer than it had been. Steve suspected JARVIS notched up the heating; Subs tended to get cold when going down. Tony didn't say a word, nor did he move, at least until the Dom girl - Gabriella - won her scientific competition. Then he shifted a little and Steve perked up.

"What is it?"

"Pins an' needles," Tony whined, his right leg twitching. He turned to Steve, his pupils blown wide. Calmness laced with content shot through Steve's body like an arrow and he was positive Tony was teetering on the edge of subspace.

"It's been too long without moving, hasn't it?" Steve should have known. Normal people couldn't stay motionless for as long as he could. "Come on, stretch out, I'll take care of you." He scrambled from behind Tony, settling beside him.

"'Kay." Tony let go of his legs, a gasp of pain leaving him as he tried to straighten them.

"Ow," he whimpered, clutching at the limb in question unhappily.

"Let me," Steve said, his palm hovering above Tony's leg uncertainly. He looked up for permission, but Tony didn't indicate either approval or disapproval, staring at him as if Steve had hung the moon. _If I'm not saying no, take it for a yes_ , Steve's brain supplied Tony's previous words, and he pressed his fingers into Tony calf, massaging the blood in and cramps away. All the while Tony's eyes didn't leave him, even though it looked like Tony was putting all his effort into keeping his eyelids from dropping shut.

"Better?" Steve asked, smiling when Tony nodded. Steve took a proper look at Tony, picking up other proofs of tiredness than the obvious struggle to keep his eyes open. "Would you like to lie down?"

Tony stared at him without a word. _Yes, unless I say no._ "Okay," Steve smiled gently as he lifted his hands up to push on Tony's shoulder. "On your back then, come on, let's get you comfortable."

Tony went down with a happy sigh but twisted miserably after a few seconds. Dissatisfaction filled the air.

"What's wrong?" Steve's fingers drummed on the bedsheet.

"Movie." 

Steve looked over his shoulder. A whole lot of people were dancing and singing in a gym. He turned back with perplexed expression.

Tony's nose scrunched up. "Can't see."

"Oh!" Steve nearly face-palmed. "Okay then, let's switch it over." 

In a second, Tony was sprawled on his belly and he looked... not happy, but so unconcerned, so carefree, eyes fixed on the screen, lips moving in time with the song. Steve tried to recall any moment in which Tony's brow wasn't creased with worries and responsibilities, and failed. 

"I'm going to touch you, alright?" 

Tony didn't say a thing and so Steve proceeded. His fingertips danced along Tony's spine and a familiar but nonetheless strange warmth began to whisper over Steve's skin; Tony was in subspace.

Steve shuddered. 

Pliable. Tony was so soft underneath his hands. Sighing, Steve ran his fingers down Tony's back, eliciting a sweet quiet purr. It surprised Steve enough to stop; it was only when Tony shifted and whined that he carried on.

"Would you-" Tony whispered, his voice quiet and unsteady; it surprised Steve to hear Tony speak.

"Yes, love?" he prompted gently, fingertips dancing along Tony's side. The endearment slipped out unchecked; it felt natural.

"Could you- would you scratch my back? Please?" Steve smiled at how shy and uncertain Tony sounded - it was such a stark difference to his usual brash attitude.

Tony, right now, was so, so beautiful. 

"Of course."

"I don't- no shirt. Please?" 

Steve's breathing hitched just so.

"What's your safeword?"

"Buttercup."

"Good. Okay." Steve hooked his fingers underneath the hem of Tony's shirt and pulled it up and, with a little cooperation from Tony, off.

He drew his knuckles along the naked skin, relishing in the softness, then let his nails into the play as well, painting faint lines, light pink at first, sunrise red after a while. Tony was murmuring incomprehensibly into the pillow, his hands laying loosely by his head. He had lost all focus, was so calm, calmer than Steve had ever seen him, and for the first time Steve let himself properly wonder how long had it been since Tony went down like this, in a safe space he had chosen and with a person he - at least that's what Steve hoped for - trusted.

Watching the messy pattern he was weaving, Steve tried to not get angry, but it was hard - God, was it hard. Tony was a beautiful Sub and Steve understood that Tony didn't like to surrender to the laws of nature, that he would much rather bend them to his will, but Steve - although not a Sub - knew that wasn't how it worked. He had seen Bucky try enough times.

Tony wriggled a little beneath Steve's hands.

"Everything okay, love?" 

"Mhm," Tony managed and Steve smiled. It was obvious how far down Tony had got; Steve had been told several times that being really deep felt like a special kind of sleepiness. It was beyond the obliging, eager to please stage, way beyond the simple baring of the neck that marked willing submission; more like dancing along the edge of sleep, where shapes are hazed and sounds are muted, where words barely make sense and everything is feeling.

To Steve, thanks to his uncommon perceptiveness, it felt like home; like safety and understanding.

"Would you like anything else?" Steve asked, carding the fingers of one hand through Tony's hair. Tony leaned into the touch and Steve kept playing with the strands.

Tony's breaths grew ever slower and Steve smiled. The movie had long since ended and the room was quiet except for their breathing, and still. Steve kept hands running over Tony's skin until he was sure the man had fallen asleep.

And then carried on for just a little longer.


End file.
